Pick Me Up
by Gradual.Descent
Summary: The war is over. Voldemort has been defeated. His conquerer, Harry James Potter isn't in the mood for celebrating. Indeed it seems he'd much rather experience a holiday with the Lovegood's and all the chaos it entails.
1. Decisions

**Pick Me Up**

**Part One - Decisions**

_His eyes widened as a sickly green coloured curse shot toward him. His feet were rooted to the spot. His wand lay meters ahead of him, which was, unfortunately, the direction in which the spell likely to end his life was coming from. His energy was exhausted, his shoulders slumped, his demeanor one of defeat, and oddly, acceptance of said defeat. Harry Potter raised his previously bowed head, and fixed a steady gaze upon his upcoming death. _

_Every single underhanded trick, every skill, all those hours of training and researching obscure spells, improving his reflexes; no matter what he had tried, and no matter what he had done, everything had failed. It was all for nothing. It was over. He was simply outclassed, no match for the brute strength and sheer skill of the wizard before him._

_The half-blood descendant of the Slytherin line had beaten him. The Dark Lord Voldemort or, as he was lesser known, Tom Marvolo Riddle could now bask in his triumph._

_As the deadly beam drew closer, Harry found himself wondering, had this man not strayed from the path of "good", what could he have achieved in life? His name could have been remembered for countless generations, for the right reasons… Although, considering the fate Harry himself was now consigned to, perhaps there was a new era approaching, one where this man would be revered._

_The spell was closing in now, Harry's instinct was to close his eyes, brace himself for the impact and life leaving him. However, he ignored it, he found himself instead gazing at his surroundings, around the remains of Godric's Hollow._

_It was ironic, poetic almost. The place where Voldemort had originally failed to kill him was the place where he would finally succeed. But it was also the first, and only, place Harry would consider home, it was the place where the happiest moments of his life, albeit he couldn't remember them, had occurred. It was the place his parents had raised him. _

_His vision was awash with that sickly green now, his childhood home now just a lingering image within his mind, all he could see was that horrid curse, the one which was surely about to end his life. And then it was gone._

_Harry's vision returned to him. He lay, spread-eagled, on the floor, although he didn't remember falling. Across the room from him, Voldemort stood, staring at Harry's body and laughing maniacally. _

Odd, _Harry pondered, _Should I not be dead? Maybe I am dead..._ He flexed a finger experimentally, it required more effort than normal, but he was very much alive. As if that wasn't miraculous enough, it appeared his strength was returning rapidly. He felt energized by the curse that had now twice failed to kill him. _

"Accio Wand!" _His voice was so hoarse it was barely a whisper, but it was enough. The wandless summoning charm managed to reacquaint Harry with his weapon. Voldemort was yet to notice this development, caught up as he was in his 'victory'. _

_Surprised at this unexpected nugget of luck, Harry seemed unsure of his next move. Instinct, however, kicked in, directing Harry's movements. His mind flashed back, very vividly, to a particular page of a book he'd been reading, which told of an ancient punishment the ministry used to hand out instead of prison. It stripped a user of all magic, rendering them a muggle. He had dismissed it at the time, as the wand movement required more time than he'd have had in the heat of battle._

_Waving his wand in an intricate pattern he could only pray mirrored the one he'd seen, Harry muttered his remembered incantation, his throat burning at the effort this required. "_Privatus Vox."

_At first Harry was convinced his spell had failed, and his advantage lost, as Voldemort had now noticed that he had once again failed in killing one Harry James Potter. Then, an archaic web of lights shot out from the Holly and Phoenix feather wand, and embraced Tom Riddle, who found himself on the floor, writhing in agony. _

Drenched in sweat, disturbed by the nightmarish memory of the final battle, which had occurred just weeks previous, Harry leapt up from his bed in Percy's old room at the Burrow. He found himself silently appreciative of the fact that he'd woken up at the stage he had, the backlash of having such a large quantity of magic stripped from your body hadn't been in the forefront of Harry's thoughts when the spell was cast. It was needless to say, the result wasn't pretty.

Riddle had died of shock, his body unable to cope with the loss of his magic. The very instant that the spell made contact, his fate was sealed.

All that remained of the quaint little village of Godric's Hollow was a crater in the middle of Wales, leaving the thirty or so witches and wizards who'd lived there prior to the battle homeless. The unstable release of magic had caused a fairly minor explosion. Harry was the only person shielded from it, being that he was the one who'd cast the spell.

The magic expulsion curse had literally required every ounce of his will to perform, he found himself physically exhausted after doing so - rendering him unable to apparate. Twinned with the fading of the adrenaline and the loss of his sudden upsurge in energy, Harry found that all he was able to do was to curl up, right in the centre of his newly created crater, and take a short nap.

He'd awoken, the day afterward, in the Burrow, unsure of how he'd gotten there and nursing one hell of a headache. The _Daily Prophet _had managed to get a picture of Voldemort's ruined corpse, the crater and Harry's sleeping form, the headline proudly declaring it was _All in a Days' Work!_

Harry walked up to the mirror and surveyed himself. His face was pale, paler than usual, he had large bags under his emerald coloured eyes and several bruises and scars lined his torso, but the scar he was most used to, the one which everyone knew, was gone. The angry red lightning bolt that had adorned his forehead since the first failed attempt on his life had faded, the skin there now smooth and unblemished.

It was all rather odd, and for a while, Harry was at a loss to explain how he had once again managed to defy fate and survive the un-survivable curse. However, Hermione had a theory that sounded entirely plausible.

When Voldemort had failed to kill Harry originally, he gave him that scar. Dumbledore had once told Harry that Voldemort had given Harry a piece of himself in doing so. What if Harry's scar had been a horcrux the entire time? What if, instead of seven like they'd thought, Voldemort had unknowingly created an eight anchor for his soul? And when he fired that killing curse, instead of killing Harry, he had destroyed the last thread stopping Harry from killing him? It was believable and made sense, and so it was an explanation Harry was only too glad to accept.

But now, Harry was trying to work out what to do with his life. He'd never really pictured himself making it so far, managing to defeat his arch nemesis and be able to live a normal life.

He was pretty sure everyone expected him to get back together with Ginny, but during the year he'd spent tracking and destroying the horcruxes, Harry had learnt quite a lot about himself. He'd realized, he was indeed fond of Ginny, but it wasn't love. He was sure she'd realized this too, or he hoped so, it'd be hard enough informing Mrs. Weasley he wasn't going to become her son-in-law, never mind having a bawling Ginny to try and console as well.

He was also in dire need of a break. From what? He wasn't sure. He just needed a place where he could forget the last 17 years of his life and, just for a while, be Harry, a normal 17 year old who wasn't extraordinary in any sense of the word.

A sigh escaped from his dried lips as he walked back to his bed and slumped down onto it gratefully. He wouldn't be able to return to sleep, and frankly, he didn't want to, if the conclusion of that dream was what awaited him. He took a swig from a glass of water - conveniently placed upon his bedside table - and then lifted his pillow, revealing two letters hastily stored underneath it.

Mrs. Weasley, bless her, had tried to stop him from receiving any of the vast amounts of fan mail that he was undoubtedly receiving. These two letters, for whatever reason, had managed to slip under her radar, a fact for which he was grateful. Had they been from complete strangers, perhaps he wouldn't have been, but he'd recognized the handwriting on both letters straight away. Neville and Luna. He'd never been as close to either of his two schoolmates as he'd like, but they were truly loyal friends, and he always liked to hear from the both of them.

Unsure of which one to open first, he opted for Neville's scrawled writing, ripping open the envelope and scanning the contents of the parchment quickly.

_Harry,_

_Congratulations! Thank you so much for finally finishing him off! I know how much this meant to you, and me too, we've both lost a lot in this war. I'm glad it's finally over and I don't have to wonder who the next funeral will be for._

_I hope you know that I'll always be your friend, if you ever need anything, don't be scared to give me a floo call!_

_I'm getting out of the country for a while just now. I need to relax, need to come to terms with it all. I think you should do the same. I'm staying with some relatives in France; otherwise I'd invite you along… But I hear Luna and her father are going to some place in Germany. I've already told her she should invite you._

_Hope to hear from you soon!_

_Your pal,_

_Neville_

One of the things that Harry had always appreciated about Neville, and that this letter here was a sterling example of, was his ability to pick up on exactly how people felt without even having to say a word to him. Neville was one of those people who were seemingly empathetic with most people they spoke to, he could relate to them and genuinely had their best interests at heart. Harry was amazed that he'd instinctually know of his internal desire to escape from Britain and relax for a while.

What was also telling to Harry was the fact that Neville, too, had lost both of his parents to Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Harry felt a strong sense of kinship with Neville just over such a simple detail in both of their lives. He could relate with the unconfident boy whom he'd shared a dormitory with for 6 years of his life.

The fact he'd recommended Luna invite Harry on her own holiday made Harry wonder if the other letter was doing exactly that. He pondered, if that was indeed the case, what would his reply be?

Harry genuinely liked Luna Lovegood. The image of the quirky blonde immediately brought a smile to his lips. Her eccentricities just made him even fonder of her. The butterbeer cap necklace, the radish earrings, reading the Quibbler upside down and her belief in creatures he'd never even heard of.

Although odd at first, he'd just realized that was just a part of Luna, there was much more to her than that. She was fiercely loyal to her friends, perhaps because she didn't seem to have many, she was extremely intelligent - people may have ridiculed her beliefs, but she had an amazing logic - and she wasn't exactly unattractive, indeed, she was very good looking in Harry's eyes, the fact that no one had made a move for the blonde actually surprised Harry a little.

In fact, Harry realized, there was little to dislike about Luna. If she invited him to Germany, or wherever herself and Xenophilius Lovegood happened to be travelling, he wouldn't hesitate in responding in the affirmative.

His mind made up, Harry reached for the second letter, wondering if there was even a decision to make, for all he knew Luna might choose to not even bring up her holiday in the letter. Even if there wasn't, he'd surprised himself with just how much he how much of an impression the complex blonde character had made upon him.

He ripped open the letter, his eyes surfing over every word. His expression changed from one of amusement, to confusion, to elation and then excitement as he neared its end. Upon its completion, the letter was hastily dropped to the floor. Harry scrambled around the room, grabbing clothes and possessions and quickly stuffing them into a rucksack.

With this flurry of activity over, Harry zipped his rucksack shut, and turned to the last thing he required. His Firebolt had lost its glossy appeal during its heavy use throughout his hunt for the horcruxes. The twigs, which had once been so gloriously neat, with not a single one out of place, were now in disarray, and the stick itself was full of nasty looking scratches and what appeared to be burn marks. Yet he still handled it reverently, being one of the sole remaining connections to his deceased godfather.

His eyes, observing the world from behind those wiry spectacles, swept over the room, surveying it for anything he may have forgotten. Satisfied he'd packed anything he may require, he grabbed one of the many quills Percy had discarded upon his desk, dipped it in some ink, and scribbled a hasty note to his hosts before opening his 3rd floor window hopping onto his broom and flying out into the cold night's air.

Later that morning, many hours after the raven haired boy escaped into the night, cloak billowing behind him, a scrawled note would be discovered in the now empty room of Harry Potter, which proudly declared:

_Away on holiday. I'll see you when I get back. H. xx_

Another piece of parchment was to be found carelessly discarded on the floor, it was blank and neither the Weasley's nor any of their guests saw any significance in such it, unawares that the looped writing of Luna Lovegood had once graced the page, declaring that he _simply __must come to Sweden with Daddy and I, we're hunting for Snorkacks! It'll be wonderfully exciting! _

* * *

**Author's Note**_ : _I now present to you yet another one of those wonderfully generic _Harry runs off after the final battle to do what HE wants_ stories. Unfortunately I've had this kind of plot haunting me constantly as of late and the only way to get rid of it was to write it down. Updates for this aren't going to be consistent, I'm going to warn you this now, if I'm famed for one thing as a writer it's the fact that I don't update regularly.. At all. I've been wanting to write a story with Luna in it for so long, because I feel that she's such a difficult character to get right, and in fanfiction authors always seem to try and work around writing her as some absolutely mental character by saying it was all an act or something.. I actually wanted to try and write about the Luna we're given in canon, a spaced out, slightly surreal girl who's fiendishly loyal and has a somewhat unique perspective on life._  
_


	2. Ottery St Catchpole

**Pick Me Up **

**Part Two – Ottery St. Catchpole**

_Knock. Knock. _"Harry? Harry are you awake?" Silence was her only reply.

_Knock. Knock. _"Harry don't you ignore me! I brought you breakfast!" No answer.

_Knock. Knock. _"Are you decent? I'm coming in!" Nothing.

Balancing the plate - laden with sausages, bacon, eggs and all sorts of other fried, heart-attack inducing delights – on one hand, Molly Weasley's free one pushed down on the brass handle and opened the door.

"Harry you need to come out of this….." whatever the end of the sentence was once intended as, it was never found out. That plate, overcrowded with food prepared with such precision, plummeted to the ground, landing with a rather audible _smash! _The food it contained scattering across the floor in a mess.

Rather than an act of carelessness on the part of Mrs. Weasley, this was her horrified reaction to the sight of an empty room, stripped of any personal belongings, and no longer playing host to the Boy-Who-Lived.

She frantically scanned the room, praying for some sign that he was, in fact, still there, waiting for him to spring out of a cupboard and inform her that it was all a rather ill advised joke on his part. A chill ran down her spine as she realized that this wasn't to be the case.

She shuddered, whether as a result of the several worst case scenarios playing out within her mind, or due to the gusts of wind assaulting her through the window, she was unsure. One thing which she was pretty damn certain about, however, was that a boy as good as her son was no longer there.

She walked further into the room, carefully evading the remains of a breakfast which she had been taking such care not to drop just moments prior. There were no signs of a struggle, had someone abducted or even _attempted_ to take Harry, there most certainly would have been evidence of a fight. That meant he'd left of his own free will.

It was then her eyes zoned in on a note placed delicately upon his pillow, she lifted it up curiously. There was only one line on it, bearing that distinctive Harry Potter scrawl, a line which elicited a very deep sigh from the woman.

"A holiday eh Harry...?" It was barely a murmur, only the tone of her voice revealing how distressed she truly was.

She folded the note and tucked it into her pocket, before turning on her heel and heading back down the stairs. Molly Weasley needed to make a floo call.

* * *

_Several hours previous…_

Freedom. Complete and utter freedom. Soaring through the twilit sky, pushing his Firebolt to its limit as the air rushed through his hair, messing it up even more; the freedom he felt up there, at that moment, was immense. It was enough to remind him why he loved flying all over again.

Harry barely noticed the beautiful countryside below him; he barely noticed the sprawling fields or the beautiful wildflowers of such amazing variety and colour growing right beneath his feet. Nor the beautiful sight of a sky on fire as the sun prepared to ascend above the world. His mind hardly registered any of this; such was the amazing speed he was travelling at.

He was fast approaching the right bank of the River Otter, the location upon which the tiny village of Ottery St. Catchpole, his destination, was founded. Harry slowed his broom, mindful of the fact the place he was approaching was an entirely muggle area.

His eyes, so often compared to those of his deceased mother, scanned the village below him carefully, scouting out a suitably inconspicuous spot to land at. Even though he was approaching at a time in which he'd hope, and expect, most of the village's inhabitants to be asleep, he couldn't risk the possibility of someone being awake and watching.

Caution is always better than none… Constant vigilance! A lesson drilled into him during the multitude of horrible battles he had to endure, many times; one which he'd eventually been forced to learn the hard way. Visions of battle flashed throughout his mind, temporarily dragging him away from the present.

His attention was drawn away from those dark thoughts, those unbearable memories and onto a darkened alley just off of – from what he could tell – the main street of the village. There were no nearby windows, there didn't appear to be anyone in the immediate vicinity of that space, indeed, its sole purpose seemed to be so they could have a place off of said street for a skip taking up the majority of the alley. This would draw him away from the line of vision of any passers-by too. Perfect.

He steered his broom down gently, guiding it into the alley, eventually touching down onto the pavement next to the skip gracefully.

That was another reason Harry loved to fly, it was so much less clumsy than those other methods of wizarding travel. Like that stupid Floo network that saw him constantly land on a heap in the floor, or apparition, which made him feel like his head was about explode every time he attempted it, to be fair, he didn't mind portkeys so much, but they were regulated by the ministry and he broke enough laws as it was. Yes, he definitely preferred flying to them all.

Waving his wand in a complex pattern, he silently shrunk his broom until it was small enough to fit in the palm of his hand. Task complete, he returned it to the back pocket on his jeans, chuckling as he imagined the chastising old Mad Eye Moody would have given him had he seen that particular offence being committed.

Placing the broom rather delicately in one of the side pockets of his backpack, Harry casually walked out of the alley and onto the main street of Ottery St. Catchpole.

It wasn't a particularly big place, just a little village in rural England. As such, the main street essentially contained everything you'd need to survive in such a place. He spied a little greengrocer at one end of the street, and a butchers shop on the other, with a huge assortment of stores in between them both.

Although the hour prevented Harry from seeing clearly, he was pretty sure he could even spot the Ice Cream parlour the Weasley children spoken of so fondly, supposedly it sold "the best ice cream you'll ever taste! Honestly Harry mate!" He didn't doubt this claim, with the amount of food Ron ate; Harry considered him an expert on the matter.

He smiled, he'd much rather live in a place like this than in the midst of the hustle and bustle of a city such as London. Here it seemed calm… peaceful, almost. This here was one of the few places that escaped the devastation of a fight which saw many others ravaged.

But Harry wasn't looking for the greengrocers, or the butchers, or that little Ice Cream Parlour which came with such vast praise. Luna's letter had explicitly mentioned to come to a pub on this street should he wish to join them on their adventure.

_Daddy and I shan't be leaving until 10.37 am, so we'll be spending the night at a quaint little pub in the village, it's easy enough to find, just on the main street. Just make sure to get there before that time! It'd be oh so nice to have you come along, I do hope you will._

His eyes scanned the main street several times, a frown beginning to form on his face as he was unable to spot it before he realized his error; it was right beside him. The building right next to the back alley he had just exited was the pub he had been told to look out for, _The Profound Pumpkin. _An interestingly named establishment, if he said so himself.

He eyed up the place, which was clearly open, and wondered what kind of pub would be doing business at such an unusual hour. He took a cautious step towards the door, before entering.

His eyes squinted for a moment, adjusting to the sudden change of lighting. The heavy door shut with a barely noticeable _click_ behind him.

His vision returned and he scrutinized the interior of the place heavily. It was empty - chairs were all placed upside down upon the tables, and there were no drunken patrons stumbling about the place, shouting loudly; indeed, there was no one at all – save for two figures, sitting upon stools up at the bar, conversing between themselves quietly.

One of these figures was a tall man, although it was difficult to gauge an accurate height while he was sitting down, Harry judged him to be around 6"1. What Harry noticed initially, which wasn't much admittedly, considering the man had his back to him, was that his hair was a pure _white_. It was astonishing, and Harry had no doubt it made it a lot easier to pick him out in a crowd.

Next to him was a much more petite figure. Luna Lovegood stood at around 5"6; her dirty blonde hair falling to her waist, and her large, silvery-blue eyes were twinkling with mirth as she conversed with her companion. Sitting sideways in her stool, she had yet to notice the young Potter studying both herself and the other man – whom he assumed was her father - intently.

Unsure of how to introduce his presence, Harry settled for an old favourite; he cleared his throat.

Luna stopped in mid-sentence; she turned her head to see who had intruded upon her conversation and Harry missed the slight widening of her eyes as she realized who it was.

She recovered quickly though, a serene smile played out on her lips as she addressed him.

"Oh. Hello, Harry. Do you know…? I was unaware you were related to Professor Umbridge."

At her pronouncement, Harry frowned. What on earth did she mean by that?

"Erm... What?" was his lame reply.

"Oh… You know..." She did a cute imitation of him clearing his throat, "_hem, hem_! It sounded awfully similar to her. Are you sure you're not related?"

Suddenly, it all clicked into place. He laughed a little as he pondered how to answer. "Ah! Nope. Well… I hope not anyways! Imagine coming from the same gene pool as that woman?" He shuddered, an action which he didn't even have to put it on, that was a thought which really did repulse him.

Luna giggled a little as well, before completely changing the subject.

"So you're coming then? I wasn't sure if you were…" She bit her lip as she trailed off. A habit which Harry found himself thinking was oddly endearing, "Especially after you never responded to my owl…."

"Yeah I'm coming if the offer's still open? Sorry about that by the –"

Luna cut him off quickly, positively beaming in unconcealed delight at his response in the affirmative.

"Oh you are? It's going to be so much fun! Did you hear that Daddy? Harry says he's coming!" Luna – Harry also noted – began to talk extremely fast when she got excited. "And there's no need to worry about not writing back! I guessed after a few days that a Cresp must have bitten you! They're nasty little buggers; make you forget how to communicate with people. Remind me to make you a charm to repel them at some point; they're easy enough to do."

Harry grinned as she rambled on. The war had changed many people, himself included, and often not for their own good. But clearly Luna was still herself; it was comforting to know that some things wouldn't ever change.

"Thanks Luna, I'd like that… We can't have those damn Cresps stopping me from writing to you, eh?" He aimed a genuine smile in her direction, a rare sight in recent months. Her own grin grew larger at upon noticing such a rarity and she seemed to be almost bouncing on the spot, such was her joy.

The other man, whom Harry now knew as Luna's father, had, at some stage during their interactions, turned around to watch the events unfold, his eyes creased in amusement as he surveyed the two. He nodded indulgently at his daughter as she addressed him, a broad smile coming easily to his face.

Once he was quite sure his daughter had finished, he stood and offered a hand to Harry, "I don't believe I've had the pleasure of making your acquaintance, Mr. Potter. It's a pleasure to finally meet you." He winked reassuringly, "I can assure you that my daughter has told me exceedingly good stories about yourself. I'm Xenophilius Lovegood, by the way, but please just call me Xeno."

Harry reached out and took a firm grasp of the proffered hand, "It's nice to meet you Xeno and call me Harry, please," He bowed his head slightly as he continued "And thanks for letting me come on this family trip with you"

Xeno waved his free hand in the air dismissively, "Nonsense! I always tell Luna to bring a friend along if we go on a trip…" he stopped for a moment, before dropping his voice to a conspiring whisper, "She's a little selfish though, you see. She likes to keep me all to herself!"

Harry laughed as he released the older man's hand, feeling more at ease in these last 15 minutes than he had in that whole week.

"Let me get you a drink anyway Harry, some butterbeer perhaps?" And without even waiting for an answer he promptly stepped behind the bar and into a back room, presumably in search of the popular magical drink.

"Thank you!"

The voice was loud, uncontrolled and also rather unexpected. Harry turned to face Luna once again, and what he saw shocked him a little.

The dreamy quality that was a virtual ever present on her face was gone, in its place a vulnerable expression. Her eyes, normally so wide and misty, giving the impression she looked _through_ you rather than at you, were clear and serious for the first time that he could remember.

Needless to say, Harry was confused, and somewhat worried. "What? What for?"

"For coming." She spoke quietly, so he could only just make out her words, "Daddy always told me to bring a friend along with us, but you were the first real friend my own age that I made. I was going to invite you after your 5th year; I thought it would take your mind off of your godfather. But I couldn't work up the courage." She blushed slightly as she admitted this; it was much more prominent upon Luna's pale skin.

She took a deep, calming breath and then continued, "I wasn't even going to invite you this time, until Neville convinced me to. Then I thought you weren't coming when I never heard back from you…" She trailed off, clearly embarrassed to be admitting this to the man before her.

Harry was touched. Luna was never really one to share her emotions with people; she always hid behind that little mask of hers, the one that made her walk around in a daze, almost unawares of the world around her. For the young Lovegood girl to expose some of her insecurities to him: To tell him he was her first real friend, that she was scared he wasn't coming, scared he'd rejected her? It actually meant a lot to know she trusted him so much.

"No," he said, "Thank _you_ Luna." He didn't elaborate; he didn't feel he needed to. Instead, he closed the gap between the both of them and put his arms around her in a tight embrace.

Although initially shocked at the suddenness of the hug, especially from someone such as Harry, who generally shied from physical contact, she eventually returned it happily.

They stood for several moments, enjoying the comfort of the other's arms, Luna made to step out of it first, but before he allowed her, Harry whispered some final words into her ear.

"You should _never_ have been worried about inviting me; I'm touched that you'd even like to take me to begin with. I like you a lot Luna, don't ever doubt that."

It was at that moment, just as the two friends removed themselves from each other, that Xeno made his return to the room known. Hauling a large crate of butterbeers into the room and hoisting them up onto the counter of the bar, he motioned them forward eagerly, like a child who'd discovered his new favourite toy.

"It's two hours 'til our portkey's due to leave! Who's up for a drinking contest? Butterbeers only of course. I can't go getting you two drunk now can I?"

The mood successfully lightened, Harry and Luna raced up to the man to start their competition, the moment they'd shared temporarily pushed to the depths of their minds.

* * *

**Author's Note**: If anyone has any ideas for anything they'd like to see in this story, please feel free to let me know. I won't necessarily use them but since this is being updated as I write it, any ideas you have could be incorporated into the story if I like them. I'll give you credit for them in this AN section if that happens.

How did I do with Luna by the way? I don't feel as though I've done justice to her character, she's not quite as quirky and.. she just feels slightly off just now. I'm hoping as I write her some more I might get more used to her psychotic ways. Also, I hope I didn't have her open up to Harry to quickly! It just seemed like a good moment for it... All feedback is appreciated! I'd love some critique as I know that what's on offer here is far from perfect..

Thanks for reading this!

**G.D.**


	3. Floo Calls

**Pick Me Up**

_Part Three – Floo Calls_

"Harry's gone."

"What!" The screeched answer to this simple statement was almost deafening.

The head of Molly Weasley nodded wearily in the grate of the fireplace, "He left during the middle of the night. When I came to bring him breakfast this morning, his room was cleared out and there was a note saying he needed a break and had decided to take a vacation…"

As Molly continued on her explanation of Harry's disappearance, the rather shapely figure she was talking to sighed dejectedly, "Harry…"

"…I can't say I blame the poor boy." Mrs. Weasley finished loudly, "Lord, if I'd been through what he had, I might not want to come back! I just wish he'd told us he was going rather than sneaking off like that. He's like another son to me. I almost had a heart attack when I saw he was missing!"

For an awkward few moments both people were quiet and the silence was suffocating. Molly had clearly been expecting some form of tirade from the bushy haired woman she'd just informed of the saviour of the wizarding world's disappearance. Finally, when it became clear this was not going to happen, she hastily broached a new subject of discussion.

"How's he doing, Hermione dear?"

Hermione's eyes immediately met the floor. Harry's disappearance had been enough to put her in a visibly downbeat manner, this new subject saw her eyes become bleary as she rapidly battled the oncoming assault of tears.

"I d- I don't know. S- Sometimes I feel as though he's improving and it's like he's getting better, but then 10 minutes later he's g- gone again..!" She made to continue in her explanation, but the battle was lost. Her voice became choked as the tears finally came, crumbling her remaining defences as the events of the last month finally caught up with her. Her legs gave way and she barely even noticed as she made contact with the cold wooden panelling on her floor as she started to wail loudly - her body shuddering with each new bout of sobs that escaped her.

The head of Molly Weasley retreated from the fireplace and the entirety of the flames turned green in her absence. The Weasley matriarch appeared as the initial roar of fire calmed, the flames licked at her clothes hungrily as she dropped to the floor next to the crumpled figure, drawing her into her arms. As she found herself cradling the girl she'd be proud to call a daughter close to her breast, the emotion of this entire situation, of so many exhaustive months spent fighting, caught up to her and she too broke down into tears.

* * *

"Done!"

A soft clinking noise was made as the final bottle from the crate joined its emptied compatriots on the table. Luna's tongue glided across her lips as she sought to guide any stray drops of the tasty amber drink into her mouth. Harry eyed the last bottle warily, before he proceeded to gaze incredulously across the table toward his blonde haired friend.

"If I hadn't just seen that in person, I would have called anyone who told me about this a complete liar." he declared; his tone one of both awe and disbelief.

Luna's wide eyed expression turned to him, "I have no idea what you're talking about Harry. Anyone can drink 27 bottles of butterbeer, really!" The sheer innocence projected within that statement was only betrayed by a slight quirk of her lips and somehow managed to undermine the utter bizarreness the words she had just uttered.

Harry turned his gaze pointedly to the 7 empted bottles he himself had managed and the 6 his fellow drop-out Xeno had consumed, his face clearly displaying the scepticism he was experiencing, before he once again addressed his companion.

"Luna, remind me to get you and Seamus together for a drinking competition someday. We'd make an absolute killing when everyone bets against you." He said factually, trying to follow the young blonde's lead. He couldn't help but direct a light-hearted wink in her direction as he finished, slightly detracting from the intended effect. Eventually his serious façade crumbled altogether and his face broke out into a wide grin, one which was returned by the blonde - who then proceeded to hiccough, loudly.

Both Harry and Xenophilius found themselves smiling fondly at the diminutive blonde as her lips quirked sheepishly in acknowledgement of the ridiculous scenario they found themselves in. A small blush had even begun to creep up her pale cheeks.

The moment was ruined however, as Xeno chose that moment to take a swift glance at his watch. "Everyone grab your things, quickly! It's only five minutes till the portkey is scheduled to leave!"

And then, within the _Profound Pumpkin_, all hell broke loose as its three occupants began their race against time.

* * *

It was half an hour of constant crying before Hermione finally began to compose herself. The streams gradually began to lessen and her puffy, bloodshot eyes began to regain some semblance of vision. Molly, upon seeing a halt in the flow of tears, gingerly pushed herself back onto her feet.

"Do you fancy a cup of tea?" Molly smiled at her reassuringly, giving her a comforting rub on the shoulder as she did so, "I find that it always helps me calm myself down after a good cry."

As appealing as the offer sounded at that moment, Hermione already knew what her decision was going to be. "Thank you for keeping me company Mrs. Weasley, it honestly meant a lot to have you there to share the moment. But I'd better get back to him." Her throat was raw from the extreme amount of crying she had just undergone.

Molly nodded her understanding; with one more reassuring squeeze to the shoulder she parted from the younger witch, stepping back toward the fireplace and grabbing a handful of floo powder from the tub on its mantle as she did so.

"Well let him know everybody's asking after him then, darling. The new Minister has already told me that he's getting an Order of Merlin - 1st class! Can you imagine?" One more sympathetic glance followed by an upsurge of emerald flames and the plump, Weasley woman was gone once more.

"I really can't Mrs. Weasley..."

* * *

"Come now children, hurry! There's only two minutes left!" Xenophilius stood, waving a two week old copy of the muggle newspaper _The Guardian _in order to emphasise his words.

Harry was benefiting from having shrunk the majority of his possessions so that they were all either in his pockets or within the backpack that he brought with him.

Luna, however, had not been so fortunate. Being a year younger than Harry she was not yet old enough to perform magic outwith school and, with the excitement of finding out that Harry had not spurned her invitation to join them, she had neglected to collect all of her possessions, which were currently scattered throughout the pub.

"Well maybe if you'd helped us look we'd find everything quicker!" Harry suggested.

Xeno merely chuckled as though Harry had told him a mildly amusing joke.

"Harry, I just need to find Setrak bracelet! Help me look for it quickly?" Luna quickly broke up the interlude between Harry and her father as she all but shouted in her frantic attempts to garner her belongings.

Harry, of course, had no idea what a Setrak bracelet was, and as such no idea what he was supposed to be looking for. So he did what any self respecting wizard would do in the same situation, "Accio Setrak bracelet."

At the same moment, Luna let out a startled cry as a band with several onyx beads upon it began to struggle against her wrist, as she noticed what it was a serene smile played out on her face once more, "Oh. Never mind!"

Harry grinned at his absentminded companion as he subtly cancelled his summoning charm.

"Right grab your stuff quickly Luna! We've got a portkey to catch." He reminded her.

Luna nodded and picked up her bags. When they turned to inform Xeno that they had found everything, however, the place which he had been standing in just moments before was empty. He was gone.

Harry's mouth formed an 'O' shape as he regarded the spot the elder Lovegood had occupied just moment before. Luna merely sighed.

"Daddy's watch must have been slow again…" she pouted, looking rather put out by the whole affair.

Harry simply looked at his friend amusedly. He could already tell this would be a holiday he wouldn't forget in a hurry.

* * *

So Harry had left them. Again. Hermione let her head rest in the comfort of her companion's shoulder, who didn't even notice as his impassive gaze continued to survey the depths of the fireplace unwaveringly. She, too, found herself drawn in by the flames as they danced and flickered in and out of existence. They seemed to act as a soothing presence in the face of those unpleasant memories being re-enacted within her mind. Memories from not so long ago.

"_Harry?"_

_Hermione strolled into the living room of the small, rundown flat they were basing themselves in as the planned the final confrontation between Harry and Lord Voldemort._

_Months of conflict, of camping out in the woods with none of the comforts they'd grown accustomed to, of facing indescribable dangers – it had all paid off as a raid upon Malfoy Manor, to liberate the wand-maker, Ollivander, had seen the destruction of the final horcrux. It was only the quick reflexes of their best friend, however, which had saved them. _

_**Ron's wand was out of its holster and waving throughout the air before either of his two companions had time to blink. Nagini was barrelled into the wall opposite them by the yellow beam which burst forth from his wand, without which would surely have seen one of the trio infected with her deadly venom. **_

_**After Ron had restrained her suitably, Harry dispatched the snake with the Sword of Gryffindor. **_

_**It was only minutes later, after the triumph and elation of destroying the final horcrux, when disaster struck.**_

"_**Crucio!" **_

_**The gangly redhead - whose impressive wandwork had saved them just moment prior -crashed to the ground, wildly thrashing as his entire body became a searing mass of torment. His pained cried resonated throughout the room and Hermione looked to his assailant with hate filled eyes.**_

_Bellatrix Lestrange did to her best friend, her lover, what she had done to Neville Longbottom's parents. She tortured him to insanity._

_Unable to hide in the open anymore, Harry and Hermione had identified this flat as the best place to hide to keep the third, defenceless, member of their trio safe. They took it in turns to leave the small building and gather information. She had just returned from one such trip, eager to share the scrap of information she'd managed to secure._

"_Through here 'Mione!" _

_She walked through to the largest bedroom which she recognized as belonging to Ron. Both Harry and the redhead were seated upon the double bed within, Ron was staring blankly at the wall, and Harry's eyes were red, as though he had recently been crying._

"_Hey," she said softly, as though she were being very careful not to wake someone up, "Any improvements?"_

_Harry shook his head wearily, before looking toward her expectantly. "Did you hear anything?"_

_Hermione perked up slightly upon being allowed to divulge the information she had gleaned in the last few hours. "Apparently _he _is going to Godric's Hollow today, no-one knows why-"_

_She was quickly stopped from completing her sentence as Harry levelled his wand at her, "I'm really sorry about this Hermione, but I can't risk you coming after me and getting hurt as well. Petrificus Totalus!" _

_Her arms snapped to her sides as her entire body turned rigid and she fell, somewhat unceremoniously, to the floor. Despite her inability to move, internally she was abuzz with emotions; betrayal, anger, shock. Her mind was reeling at what had just occurred._

_Harry stood for a few more moments, murmuring quietly so that she couldn't adequately make out what he was saying. Then, he disappeared with 'pop' and Hermione found her bodily functions returned to her. Immediately, she tried to apparate after him but she felt herself bounce off of the domed anti apparition ward he'd created around the area. _

_Focussing her magic, she surveyed the wards he'd erected and found, to her dismay, that they extended for a one mile radius in all directions, as did his anti floo wards. She was trapped._

_Dejectedly, she slumped down onto the bed next to the redhead figure currently occupying it. She stared at the spot that Harry had stood in just moments before, the multitude of emotions that swelled within her as she thought of his betrayal giving her a slight headache._

_But all that mattered now was that she was alone. Both of her best friends had left her. One having to literally restrain her from following and the other, although seated beside her, was unlikely to ever return._

"Hey, Ronald." Hermione murmured, her mind still plagued with the nauseous sensations she'd experienced that fateful day, "Harry's gone and ran off again, can you believe that? What an insensitive prat!" she laughed bitterly, sniffing a little as she fought a second onslaught of tears, "Your mother is worried sick of course, apparently he just got up and left in the middle of the night, it's exactly like last time don't you think?"

Still he continued to gaze into those glowing embers, oblivious of the fact that there was even a female presence upon his shoulder, much less that she was addressing him with such emotion. Despite her lack of success, she continued speaking to him, unwilling to lose that tiniest glimmer of hope that he would finally respond, would finally be Ron again.

"Oh by the way, when she stopped 'round your mother told me that you're being awarded an Order of Merlin – 1st Class! You're a real hero now you know? Who'd have thought that ickle Ronnikins would become a nation hero eh?" her tone was teasing, but elicited no response.

Unable to keep up such a charade any longer, Hermione quietened and – for the second time that evening - she wept.

**To Be Continued.**

* * *

AN: Well I told you updates would be pretty sporadic didn't I? This year has been pretty hectic, I'm not even going to lie. I've had tests sprung on me every other week and not a lot of time to think about fan fiction. But I finally got round to finishing this today. I'm starting to know where I want the next few chapters to go, so hopefully they shouldn't be as difficult to write as this was.

What do you think of the Ron/Hermione subplot? Is it worth keeping in there? One reviewer had asked what happened to Ron and Hermione since I was following my own timeline, I hadn't initially planned to have them in this story at all but this kind of decided where it was going itself if I'm being honest.

Anyway, until next time, whenever that may be!

G.D


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